


Capsized

by Chromophilic_Daydream



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Personas (Persona Series), Ballroom Dancing, Choking, Edgar Allan Poe References, Established Relationship, Frottage, M/M, Masquerade, No Metaverse (Persona 5), Post 11/20, Sexual Content, Shido's Cruiser is real
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-10
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2019-05-20 10:34:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14892992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chromophilic_Daydream/pseuds/Chromophilic_Daydream
Summary: These people who chattered and laughed and danced did not care about the world outside this ship. The suffering of others could not taint their consciousness now, nor tempt their guilt if they even had any left. After all, they were far away from land and, as such, far away from the people they used as stepping stones to climb the social chain.What mattered the most to them was their indulgence.What mattered the most to him was that every single person here deserved to sink to the depths of the ocean along with this vanity project Shido built.-Or-Where Akechi Goro's resolve wavers like the rock of the boat on choppy waters when the person he failed to kill shows up for answers.





	Capsized

**Author's Note:**

> A big thank you to Selvanic and Captain Ressentiment and my wife for betaing this fic and encouraging me always.
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you to[ Candymeltz](http://candymeltz.tumblr.com)(tumblr)[ Rika ](https://twitter.com/candymeltzdraws)(twitter) who did this amazing [art](https://twitter.com/candymeltzdraws/status/1006036724571664385) for this fic! And [Kuno](https://twitter.com/kunokocchi) for this [piece](https://twitter.com/kunokocchi/status/1005931341815402496) as well! for choosing my summary for the Big Bang project! This one-shot is easily one of my favorites that I've ever written and it's been so difficult keeping it under wraps for this project. 
> 
> I hope you all enjoy.

The ballroom of the massive ship was grand beyond words. The shimmering glow of the candlelit halls illuminated a haunting cast of luxury that softened the harsh shine of golden ornate accents on ivory walls. The murmur of the crowd was drowned out by wisps of stringed instruments playing sonatas that sang overhead and tangled in the crystal chandeliers that hung low from carved ceilings. Men and women all around filled the marble floors with a clatter of heels and swishing of expensive fabrics. All different colors and textures blurred — melting together in dance. Adorning their faces were masks of all themes, structures, and shades. Each one as beautiful as the last, decorated with crystals and edged with expensive metallic trim. Amongst the guests not dancing on the marble veined floors were those that partook of the feast that lined the far wall of the room with jovial laughter. Yes, this parade of joy and prosperity with painted lips and twinkling eyes was certainly a sight to behold. All in the honor of the elite and the life they led.

Not a worry wore on a single mind to what lay beyond the hulls of the ark. Not a single one the wiser to the growing despair that plagued the outside world. Not out of ignorance, but out of spite. They were the ones who crafted the world through the pulling of strings attached to expendable people, either to manipulate or hang them for the betterment of their own lives. Parasites that lived only to prey on the weaker population without remorse. As long as their needs were met, nothing else mattered.

These people who chattered and laughed and danced did not care about the world outside this ship. The suffering of others could not taint their consciousness now, nor tempt their guilt if they even had any left. After all, they were far away from land and, as such, far away from the people they used as stepping stones to climb the social chain.

What mattered the most to them was their indulgence.

What mattered the most to him was that every single person here deserved to sink to the depths of the ocean along with this vanity project Shido built.

Not a single silk-gloved hand here offered their resources to those of less fortune, those who were victimized by their way of life. They all deserved to have the air in their lungs replaced with water, to choke on the bitter salt of the icy water that sloshed against the ship.

Each one of them to die a miserable and cold death where none of their luxuries could save them. Himself included.

That would change tonight by his own hands all because of Shido’s incessant impatience.

The election was too far away for his nerves and the Phantom Thieves put too much heat on Shido's already boiling paranoia. But now that they’ve calmed, the urge to show his dominance overrode his subtly and decided to invite everyone who had ever owed him a favor to this display of decadence. The leader of the Phantom Thieves was dead, and this was the way of celebrating that the biggest threat to his political advancement was now gone from his vision.

_ What a fool. _

The biggest threat to his power had been here for two years, by his side, waiting for the moment to strike. Tonight was the night that the explosives he smuggled in would blow out the supports for the upper decks. Tonight was the night this whole ship would take on water so quickly that everyone here would perish.

What Shido failed to realize was that the one in control was him and him alone. Especially now that the Phantom Thieves no longer mattered.

They were just a mere distraction from the ever-growing presence of the vengeance that darkened every corner of his mind, a slight reprieve to his fate and his plan. However, with that distraction deceased from the forefront of his agenda, the pendulum of focus swung back to Shido with the intent to slice him in half.

The time would come to humiliate Shido when he realized just who Akechi Goro was. He would utter his disbelief, maybe even lose his temper when Akechi would slit his throat with careless ease. He’d watch the light leave his eyes and finally, he’d see his life’s purpose fulfilled.

A fantasy soon realized. And what better than to take down every ounce of scum in Japan that gouged themselves on luxury with the bastard who orchestrated them.

A leader goes down with the ship, right? It was a fitting death that he would take absolute joy in, unlike the others he had been forced to clean up.

No, this time would be less messy, no loose ends to tie up and no more innocent bodies he'd be asked to drop. For everyone on this ship was guilty and did not deserve the air they breathed. He had seen them all; evidence of murders, exploitation of children, trafficking human organs. All manners of things that Shido helped them cover to earn their patronage which, in turn, earned them a first-class ticket to this decorated ballroom that bounced on the bitterly cold ocean waves of the Pacific.

A first-class ticket to their graves.

It was almost poetic.

A grand ball where everyone hid their faces, their identity, their sins. And yet someone here knew their crimes and that person would be the very reason that their bliss ended. A harbinger of death dressed in a white fitted suit that was far too elaborate for his liking, emphasizing the elegance of this ball and the very greed of everyone attending.

To his reassurance, at least every other person was dressed just as ridiculous as he was, though it didn’t make him feel any less uncomfortable. If he could have just shrugged off the stiff white overcoat, or even unbutton it, he would have felt much better. The only thing he'd had to deal with was the deep crimson ascot that scratched at his neck.

He didn’t talk to many people at the party, the few hundred guests mingled amongst themselves. Drawing attention to himself was not ideal, not yet anyhow. Loading all the explosives and setting them up against the hull of the ship took time and he realized he hadn’t eaten yet. The angry pit of hunger gnawed away at his attention and he turned on his heel to make his way over to the buffet stuffed with any and every kind of food he could ever think of.

Might as well enjoy it. It would be his last, after all.

He moved with the grace of someone who was a slave to ignorance, melting into the background of the festivities as he pushed a strawberry in his mouth and chewed. He stared out at the dancers behind the beak of his red mask. Another fitting decision, an angel of death dressed in white with a simplified plague doctor’s mask fitted to his face. 

No one here was suspect to his betrayal, he watched as they laughed and chatted with each other none the wiser to the threat beneath their very feet. It was a big joke that the punchline was a secret privileged to him and him alone.

The strawberry turned tart against his tongue as he swallowed the fruit, and helped himself to another before being satisfied. He slipped his hand into his pocket to graze his fingertips over the detonator stowed there safely under a plastic cover. His ace.

A hand on his left shoulder drew his attention to it and made him release the device in his pants pocket.

“Akechi-kun!” The man said in far too familiar a tone than he felt was necessary as the hand tightened on his epaulet. He recognized the boisterous baritone of the man whose name escaped him. He was no one important, just a former Noble to some obscure country that rubbed elbows with Ooe far too often and drank more often than that.

“Good evening.” He said politely and stood up a bit straighter. “Was there something I could help you with?”

“Just wondering if you knew where any girls were.” The slur of his words was enough to tell Akechi that the former heir was drunk already. That, coupled with the breath that came out of his mouth was enough to confirm his suspicions. He rolled his shoulder and knocked the grip off of him, keeping a plastered smile on his face.

“I believe they are all wearing dresses, sir.” He commented, not hiding the sharpness of his words but doubted that the man could pick up on the pointed sarcasm in his response.

To his dismay, the man’s large hand found his spine this time and he laughed loud enough for the strawberries in Akechi’s stomach to churn at the obtrusive noise and the slamming of his palm on his back.

That’s when he saw it, out of the corner of his eye that was unobscured by the mask fastened to his face. A glimpse—a wisp of a charcoal coat that hovered far too close to where he stood with the drunk pest beside him still laughing at his stupidly unfunny joke.

He hadn’t heard anyone else approach him. Even over the music and the obnoxious chortling that filled his ears, he should have sensed someone else there, right?

Actually, this hadn’t even been the first time tonight that he saw something move in his field of vision that he had not been aware of before it slipped away from his sight, now that he thought about it. A handful of times over the last few hours he dismissed as just a trick of the garish light or a coincidence. However, now would have been the fifth time and it was far too obvious to not ignore.

Someone was watching him, their gaze piercing into his back, following him from afar. But they weren’t very skilled at remaining in the shadows. An amateur. How typical.

The man beside him asked him a question he didn’t hear as he scanned the crowd for anyone acting suspiciously to find no one.

“Hm?” He asked, still not interested in a thing he was going to say. Why would he want to listen to the whining of a soon-to-be-dead man, anyway?

“Just that it’s a shame you can’t even toast ta our new Prime Minister!” The drunk patron teased, swishing the glass he was holding in Akechi’s face before laughing again. “Too bad yer not of age—”

He raised his hand to the other’s wrist, pulling it down and out of his vision with ease and irritation. He lost track of the shadow. He resisted the urge to click his tongue and turned towards the older man.

“He hasn’t won yet though. However, you’re right, it really is a pity. If you’ll excuse me, I think I see someone I know.”

He all but shoved the man away from him and turned on his heel, not bothering to listen to the retort that followed him. Pleasantries wouldn’t much matter after the night of was over anyway and he could tell, even in that disgrace's drunken case, his attitude was not appreciated. Orphan bastard children didn't just cut people off... bottom of the barrel misfits shouldn't talk back to those more distinguished than themselves. So people of the former Noble's nature most certainly didn’t enjoy to be cut off mid-conversation by someone like him... some tool to be used for anyone's disposal. Under normal circumstances, he would have put up with it quietly to save face...

However, it felt a bit—

Liberating.

He wondered how it would feel to slit Shido’s throat before the night was over. Would that feel just as freeing?

He wandered down the blood-soaked fantasy that kept him alive for the last two years, reliving every demise of those who deserved to die. Not for their crimes against him, no, but the world. Their wrongdoings were much like Shido's, which was why the politician wanted them cut out of this picture before they could threaten his position. Shido in his infinite rotten principles disguised as noble causes, his Machiavellian splendor spilling out of every crevice of social hierarchy constructed through the blood of innocents. Seeing him in the place of those he was forced to kill... yes, it made it almost satisfying that every one of the people he exterminated he simply imagined Shido in their place. How thrilling it would have been to watch his father walk in their footsteps moments before their death. The crunch of Shido’s body hitting a car, the sound of his last gasp before a bullet plunged into his throat…

_ Almost _ satisfying— it made his job more tolerable, more bearable, imagining his father in place of those he actually killed. It always made him sick right after but it was the only thing keeping him going, that soon one day Shido would be the last person he had to kill. Because of that, he never missed his mark, no matter how badly his hand shook, no matter how much he threw up after. He never failed.

Well, all except once…

One person who made him question his resolve.

A pest that managed to make him falter.

One person he didn’t know for sure if he had actually killed or not. The only thing he could confirm was that he hit him hard enough that the smell of blood filled his nostrils and the sting of vomit began to trek up his throat. But that was all he knew. After slamming the heel of his handgun into Kurusu's head and watching the leader of the Phantom Thieves' neck snap with a sickening crunch, his head oozing against the table... he decided his half-assed job of killing him was good enough.

Afterall, him being alive or not didn't matter in the long run, this was all going to end tonight. No more waiting for the election, no more stalls or delays.

No more time to wonder why he didn't just put a bullet in Kurusu's head.

It wasn't important anymore. Things were boiling to a head and Kurusu's unknown status was trivial in comparison to his intentions tonight.

It wasn't essential to know why his chest tightened to squeeze all the air out of his lungs when he thought he had killed the leader of the Phantom Thieves.

The hours and hours of sleep he lost while sharing a bed with the very person he was to murder, trying desperately to think of a way out of it... cursing fate that it was him of all people —of course, it was him. Why wouldn't it be him?

No, it didn't matter if he realized he loved him when his smile was aimed directly at him and he lost his train of thought all those times in Leblanc that they spoke over coffee. All those times their lips met and Akechi could forget for a while who he was and what he had done.  It didn't matter some sinister seed of doubt that sprouted into a gnarled twist of thorns when he agonized in silence about the decision he had to make, that Kurusu's soft whispers of adoration made that doubt in his mind flower into something akin to optimism.

That optimism wilted the moment his finger trembled on the trigger, Kurusu's eyes staring so deeply into his soul to see how truly rotten it was, like a corpse smothered behind a bricked wall. It was easier to kill off his emotions, suffocate them behind walls and let them wail into the night behind the brick and mortar of lies he spun. However, Kurusu’s eyes unnerved him, demanded something unspoken from him. There was still no judgment in his face, no pleading for his life, just calmness. He wished, in another life, that he may be as trusting.

But the bullet never left his gun. And he didn't want to think why it never found its target. It hurt too much to try to rationalize his feelings, so he just ignored them, forgotten behind his barriers and yet those feelings bloomed in his moments of solace. He damned the hope that Kurusu didn't bleed out before someone found him. He damned the regret that wrapped a noose around his neck and pulled. He damned not knowing if Kurusu made it out alive.

But none of that mattered now, his affection, his connection... none of it.

Everything would wither and die tonight.

That is, if Shido hadn’t caught onto his plan.

He kept scanning the crowd for any sign of odd activity, some ghost lingering out of the corner of his eye as he began to squeeze through a throng of glitzy guests, muttering his apologies as he did so.

The mask on his face granted him no favors, tunneling his vision like he was looking through a scope of a rifle. His peripheral cut off and his perception minimized. Not ideal for wanting to search for someone quickly.

Someone tried to catch his attention before he stepped onto the wooden dance floor but he ignored the woman waving at him that he easily identified as one of the television executives that hosted him on variety shows. Really, what good were the masks if everyone could recognize each other? His gaze drifted from her with the barest of smiles for her when he saw it again. A glimpse of something dark seeped away into the bold colors of those who were dancing to the upbeat rhythm of the waltz singing through the air.

He zeroed in on where the seemingly dark cloud evaporated from his sight. Shit.

He could feel someone continuing to stare at him. His hair stood on end under the heavy white suit, sweat accumulating around his deep red ascot.

He took a deep breath, and released... to breathe deeply... and release again before he began to weave around the dancing couples.

_ Where did you go? _

Part of his mind that tried to brush off the possibility that someone was following him, that someone knew his scheme disintegrated. His teeth clenched as he turned, peering through the swirls of people. People who deserved to die. People he was going to kill.

Still not a hint of whoever it was. But the panic began to rise in him like a tide that threatened to capsize him.

He had to do this. He shoved his hand into his pocket and skimmed his thumb over the edge of the detonator.

Shido first.

He swallowed hard, finding some peace inside of himself that his growing panic hadn't managed to touch yet.

In this whole life, he had not one ounce of freedom to do with his life what he wanted. His mother died, the institution he lived in was cold and cruel... he was forgotten about, abandoned, until he became useful. Not to himself, but to others who wanted to exploit him for any number of things. For so long he made himself, constructed himself out of discipline and carved his personality into something beautiful to carry out his revenge. Just naive enough to fool everyone around him to his true motives but not enough to raise suspicion. It was a constant balancing act. Everything he had done was to climb to this point in his life and yet…  it still felt too soon to him.

However…

It was time to prove himself a formidable person, a human being who had struggled against fate and odds to claw his way to the top. 

_ Showtime.  _

It was sooner than he would have liked, wishing he had eaten more than just those two strawberries... that his last conversation hadn't been with the spoiled lackey of Shido's. But it was fine. Soon Niijima would find all of his reports on Shido's dealings and know that it was him that killed the politician.

All he had to do make Shido repent. All he had to do was make that worthless man grovel at his feet and beg him for mercy. All he had to do was make him realize who Akechi Goro was and laugh at his pathetic pleas for his meaningless life. And he would grant mercy, by slitting his throat. Then with the press a button, everything would finally be alright. In his hands, everything would be peaceful and _ just _ .

He worked so hard to make sure everything was in place, methodically coordinated to ensure his victory.

And when Shido emerged from the top of the staircase, he took it as a sign that it was time. No one was going to take this chance away from him. No one was going to stop him from ripping the life out of that good-for-nothing piece of shit.

In his breast pocket, the hilt of his knife was eating away at his chest. It pulsated with the quickened pace of his heart. It was time.

With the malice in his heart corroding any sense of doubt and panic, he moved towards the stairs, purpose in his step so out of sync with the music barely registering in his ears.

That's when a firm grasp wrapped around his wrist and pulled him off his trajectory, his eyes ripped from the target of his frantic, frenzied state. He barely had time to react as his feet stumbled by the yank that wouldn't let him lose his balance completely. He jumped, regaining his footing just as another hand snaked around his waist, stabilizing him. It happened in a mere moment, a blink of an eye. Someone dared touch him, someone dared get in his way. 

Akechi yanked away, trying to put as much distance between him and the other person as possible so he could assess the situation when—

"You know, if you struggle so much you'll make a scene." A familiar voice whispered as he was brought in closer by the pull on his waist and cemented in a formal embrace as his feet moved in tempo with the other person’s pace. His eyes narrowed as dread washed over him. The piercing, mischievous grey eyes that stared into his own made him momentarily forgot how to breathe. The soft gleam shining off his lips that twisted into a smirk stabbed him in the gut as they moved together.

“Kuru-”

The last thing he ever suspected was to be looking into the face of Kurusu Akira, here… now… ever again. Be it either because the leader of the Phantom Thieves was dead, or Akechi himself was, he didn’t ever think he’d be on this ship pressed up close to a person he failed to kill…

That that person would kiss him as passionately as he was now.

That his mind would blank in response to the warmth that sweetly invaded his mouth, cutting him off from uttering his name. A wrench in the cogs of his mind, that’s what Kurusu Akira was to him. A nuisance. A sweet intoxication, tripping him on the way to his goal. A soothing presence that broke his concentration, his finger that quivered on the well-worn trigger, his lust for vengeance bloomed the most exquisite hope inside of him. Even now he stole the air from his lungs, the words from his lips as his tongue glazed over his teeth and into his mouth.

He forgot how to think.

Until the hand on his waist pulled him flush, the space between them melting in proximity, did his mind catch up with the present.

And he pushed the thief off of him with his free hand.

"W-wha-" He sputtered, quickly adjusting his mask over his face as it dislodged.

Kurusu sighed, almost like he woke up from the same dream Akechi was having at that moment and continued to dance with him, keeping his voice hushed.

"I heard there was a party, so I decided to crash it." He offered, gripping Akechi's hand tightly in his own.

His teeth gritted together as anger bubbled up inside of him. "You need to leave."

"I mean alright. I’ll get right to work on that. I think I'm a pretty decent swimmer. Did I ever tell you I used to be part of the team back hom-"

"Riveting story, I'm sure." He cut him off with a scoff, letting himself finally take in the sight of the very alive, very real Kurusu Akira in front of him... the very same that just kissed him. His eyes narrowed, the ghost of Kurusu's lips haunting with lingering warmth still present on his own.

"Actually, swim back to shore."

"Oh, that’s polite of you."

"You just showed up out of the blue and kissed me, Kurusu." He hissed, narrowly dodging stepping on the other's feet.

"Akira.” He corrected him. “Besides if I didn’t do it, you would have drawn attention to us, my hands were kinda full." He shrugged. "I improvised."

"Improvised?"

"Yeah, I mean I've kissed you before. Several times, if you recall."

It took everything in him not to stomp on his foot.

"I'm quite confident that me almost killing you insinuates that we are broken up which means you can't do that anymore."

"But you didn't kill me, so I thought we may still just be in the flirting stage." He grinned and Akechi started to wonder again why he hadn't just pulled the trigger.

Even still, looking at him now made his chest swell. An ordinary white mask that bleed to darkness around his eyes was simple but didn't seem to suit him upon first glance. It dulled his usual bright gray irises. But as he peered in them, there was something fundamentally different. He had seen that look before. It was one often worn in the musty attic of Leblanc as they went over plans to doxx and ruin those who deserved it. A spark of rebellion. However, as subtle as it had been in the attic, it had transformed here and now. What was once a flickering bolt of lightning became more like a fire smoldering as he maintained his stare. The mask almost aided to how unpredictable he could be... wild even. It was different, this look. So different than the fashion glasses he wore regularly that quelled his rage. Those glasses that made him look docile and compliant. This was anarchy gazing into his very soul, unrooting the fate he resigned himself to.  

And he found himself fighting it. He couldn't allow himself to enjoy it, even though he wanted to, the little seed of doubt began sprouting once again, threatening to capsize his resolve for the second time in his life. 

However, Akira wasn't letting go of his hand or waist as they swayed in time to a melody he didn't recognize. He was hypnotized, unable to force himself to get away. Captivated.

He let out a deep sigh and submitted to Akira’s whims. Just this once.

“You’re insufferable. So, I assume the rest of your ragtag bunch is waiting to take me out?” He questioned but allowed himself to cave into the situation. He glanced around to orientate himself. The object of his goal was still far away from him and once again Akira was hindering his plans. At least now he had an answer as to who was following him all night but that didn't make this situation any easier... in fact, it was the opposite.

Why the hell did he have to be here?

“Nah, I left them at home. They would have handcuffed me to the bed if they knew I was going to stow away on this ship to talk to you.”

“You should have let them.” He countered, still mindful of the people surrounding them in a flurry of colors.

“That’s pretty kinky, detective.” Akira remarked with the slightest of smirks on his face as they swaye-

Wait… why the hell weren’t they...moving?

He realized then that they had, indeed, only been  _ swaying  _ instead of actually dancing. He felt the brush of someone against his heel. The guests around them kept in time to the music, however, they were floundering at some tempo Akira was seemingly making up. They were standing out. It wasn’t enough that they were both in contrasting suits and both men...

“For someone who doesn’t want to make a scene, you’re doing a poor job of not making a spectacle.” He remarked sharply and Akira laughed. A tremor ran down his spine.

“Oh, that’s because I can’t dance, ow-"

The lingering urge to "accidentally" step on the Phantom Thief's foot manifested as a crack of irritation stained Akechi’s face under the red mask fastened to him.

This... _ idiot! _

Swiftly he moved his free hand down to Akira's waist, straining to hear the rhythm of the horn section over his own rapid heartbeat.

"Wow, I didn't expect you to be so forward."

"Shut up and put your hand on my shoulder already." He growled under his breath, ignoring the suggestive joke to the best of his abilities. If they were dancing they could talk without drawing too much attention. The last thing he needed was more eyes on him right before his plan came to fruition.

Akira luckily obeyed, placing his gloved hand on his shoulder as Akechi took the lead.

“Not half bad.” The thief remarked, which bloomed a smug little smirk on his lips.

“Yes, quite unlike yourself, why did you ambush me here if you can’t even dance?”

“I dunno, didn’t think it through.”

How this guy was the leader of a group that took down so many criminals without getting caught until recently, he would never know. But what was important now is that they were blending into the group much more efficiently now that they weren’t fumbling around.

“Just follow my lead, Kurusu.”

“Akira.” He corrected him again and smirked. “And gladly.” He took a moment before continuing though, their eyes connecting in a heated moment that burned away as soon as Akechi cleared his throat. This really wasn’t opportune, at all. This is was pointless.

But his feet were moving on their own and soon he was captivated by those warm grey eyes again. It made him miss it… all of it. The very thing that made him rethink his attempt on Akira’s life. He wanted to push him away. The end results were so much bigger than the two of them, after all. But he couldn’t help a sigh of relief that he was here… even if it meant a little mending to his plan. But the longer he wasted here, the more his mind would be tempted to wander into hypothetical daydreams coated with cloyingly sweet optimism—

And doubt.

"You really need to go." He gripped his hand as tightly as he could, his fingernails digging past both of their gloves. He watched a wince mar Akira's face from under the mask. It was only then that he saw the part in his hair covering what looked like stitches...

Guilt gnawed away at his stomach with the hunger he had been feeling from earlier... between that and the spinning of the waltz, he was starting to get queasy. 

Even though he had done much worse… so much worse than attempted murder, this was far more nauseating. Somehow. He knew why... under his excuses and denials. But he wasn't meant for possibilities. There was nowhere in his plan that allowed for it.

"I can't leave..."

"Yes you can, there are lifeboats." He tried to take a survey of his surroundings, no one paying them any mind. No one’s attention was directed at them.

"I'm  _ not _ interested in taking a lifeboat out unless you're coming with me."

"My apologies, but  _ I'm _ not interested in that plan."

"Goro."

Familiarity itched in the back of his throat as he raised his arm for Akira to pass under before they were flush against each other again. He hated it, he hated that his own name being uttered like that made his chest ache with longing.

“I’m not stupid.”

“You could have pulled the wool over my eyes with that one... you did just rush onto a dance floor and don’t even know how to Box Step.”

“Yeah, surprising I know.” The chuckle that tumbled out of Akira’s mouth made him smile as well. Maybe there was no real harm in this. Just for a few more minutes, he could allow himself to enjoy this.

“Regardless, at least you know how to follow.” He offered, reveling in the moments of weakness, the seed of doubt springing up inside of him once again.

“You’re a pretty good leader...”

A moment of silence passed between them.

It was far too comfortable.

“Why are you here, Kur-”

“Akira. God, Goro I used to make you coffee all the time. Hell, we used to  _ sleep _ together. Why are you being so formal?”

“Fine,  _ Akira _ , why are you here?” He didn't remember him ever talking quite this much. Akira was quiet and unyielding with a rebellious smoldering to his aura that was much untapped in his presentation of himself.

“To collect you. I have questions I want answered.” Akira stopped mid-step, cementing himself to the floor like a sack of bricks. Akechi stopped as well and gritted his teeth.

“I’m not some prize to be collected.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.  You owe me some answers.” The thief all but growled his demand, that restrained anger pulsating through his words.

It was then that Akechi knew he wasn't going to be able to convince Akira to just leave. He mulled over his plans, his options and the hunger from Akira's darkening grey eyes. That hunger that choked him.

He had every right to be angry.

He had every right to have answers.

"Not here." He finally responded.

His plans would just have to be delayed a bit longer than anticipated and prayed his absence wouldn't be too noticeable.

The detonator in his pocket was as heavy as the lump in his throat as he led Akira away from the party and into a side corridor to the room he was allotted for the night. It was just as pristine as he left it, never once having thought he'd return to it nor sleep in the bed that lay at the far corner of it.

As soon as he entered the room he began to shrug off his coat, careful to take the knife he had hidden in it out and slipped it into the other pocket of his pants. After that, the mask came off and he breathed a sigh of relief as he straightened out his bangs. Akira was following suit, taking off the tailcoat and loosening the tie at his throat. He drank in the sight of him, newly found nostalgia dug its claws into his chest and he forced his eyes away just as the Phantom Thief was taking off his mask.

"Where did you get that outfit anyway?" He asked, trying hard to break the palpable tension that had settled into the air around them.

"Stole it."

He looked back at him and raised an eyebrow. "Stole... it?" 

Of course he stole it.

"Yeah from some guy who looked about the same size as me. Knocked him out, put him in a broom closet somewhere." Akira responded, a shrug rolling off his shoulders. "He didn't need it as badly as I did."

He chuckled and shook his head. "You just confessed a number of crimes to a detective." He teased as he began to untie the ascot around his neck. That felt much better alleviating the pressure off his throat.

Akira was staring at him, he didn't even need to acknowledge it to know it was a fact, he could feel that heated stare piercing through him.

"A detective whose rap sheet is longer than mine and also attempted to kill me? Sorry, I'm not that stressed out about admitting that I stole someone's clothes."

His voice wasn't abrupt nor harsh, barely above a hushed whisper, but for some reason, Akechi felt that would have hurt less if he had just started yelling at him.

"You do have a point." He sighed and sat down on the bed, draping one leg over the other before finally meeting Akira's unobstructed gaze. He swallowed with some difficulty, seeing now that the mask actually hid some of the scarring skin that was held together with stitches. The wound was still an irritated shade of pink and swollen. It reached almost down to Akira's eyebrow and hid in his hairline. He really hit him that hard?

It really had only been about a week, hadn't it?

Akira must have noticed him staring and adjusted his bangs down over the stitches and Akechi lowered his eyes.

"Sorry, I didn’t mean to stare."

"No, I'm glad you saw it." Akira carded his gloved fingers through his hair again, still fidgeting with his bangs. “The concussion wasn’t fun but I suppose it’s better than the alternative.”

“I suppose so… Will it heal cleanly?” He tried to keep his voice as detached as possible, like they were speaking of the weather rather than a nearly fatal wound Akechi had inflicted in attempted homicide.

“No.” The Phantom Thief answered a bit too truthfully for the tone Akechi was attempting to set for the conversation. 

“Ah, I see…” 

Another spell of silence where neither of them spoke.

"You have questions." His voice almost cracked from the shriveled feeling of his dry throat. The sooner he got this over with though, the sooner he could convince Akira to just leave.

"Yeah, I do." He heard Akira take a few steps towards him but found himself unable to look him directly in the eye. He expected he wanted to know the whole story, about why he did such horrible things, why he worked with Shido for all this time, why—

"Why didn't you kill me?"

He blinked and bit the inner corner of his mouth. It wasn't the actual content of the question itself that... surprised him. However, how it was phrased made him snap his head up. Why didn't he kill him? The small speech he had been preparing in his head since their exit of the ballroom disappeared from his mind. This was not the question that demanded this backstory of his transgressions. No, it addressed the unsettling personal part of his moral dilemma that did not end Akira's life that night. It forced him to peel away all of his reasoning and logic and dug deep into the emotional side he had been desperate to ignore. It was easier to talk about why he tried to kill him than why he didn't succeed.

It didn't help that Akira had moved very close to him, standing above him. He could hear his steady breathing, see the golden edge of his vest that made him want to reach out and touch him. That question was too heavy, it hovered over him like a threat.

"I..." He took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I’ve eliminated several people under orders-"

The press of supple leather caught his chin and tilted his head up until he was gazing into those warm grey eyes again, those soul-searching, angry eyes.

"That's not what I asked, Goro."

He couldn't look away now, Akira had him captivated one more by his steadfast stare. Those eyes seeking the truth in his words, in his very soul that was boarded and guarded from the world.

It wasn't fair how much sway he had over him. It wasn't fair how much he wanted to relent.

It wasn't fair how Akira was so insistent on closure, to pull the honesty out of him with no motive other than to know.

It wasn't fair that he didn't meet Akira much earlier in life.

So this was his repentance, the last chance to make one good decision in his life just before it ended... so Akira could move on.

And he lied. It was easier this way for both of them.

"I wasn't ordered to kill you."

The scarred, dark eyebrow quirked then furrowed. "You... weren't?" There was a riddle of disappointment on his face that could not be masked, not even in the low light of the dreary, gaudy room.

"What do you mean?" The hand on his chin trembled and he saw his opening.

"It wasn't for your sake, so why does it matter? I wasn't ordered to kill you, just take you out of the picture for a while. It was not for any other reason other than a dead body would have been suspicious."

Lying was as easy as breathing to him. Playing with others’ emotions as they had played with his in the past was a lesson he took to heart. It was easy to upset people, it was easy to make someone think he didn't care. All he had to do was use their insecurities against them. Easy. The sooner he got back to the party, the better. The sooner that Akira got onto that lifeboat, the better.

"What do you mean?" Akira repeated, barely shielding the tremor that drifted from his hand to his voice.

"I mean I used you and nothing more. I felt nothing for you and certainly not  _ pity _ . How could someone like me be interested in a nothing like you? Get over yourself. You were nothing more to me than an eyesore and a pest." He reclined on his hands just as Akira's fingers closed around his throat and yanked him back up until they were almost nose to nose.

"Is that what you tell yourself to sleep at night?"

He tried to swallow and back away, muster a laugh, spit in his face. Anything. But nothing came out but another lie that suffocated the hope and breath out of him.

"Not my fault you can't accept the truth, Kurusu."

Inside his mind, he told himself he did believe those words, that Akira meant nothing to him, that Akira was worthless to him now. Afterall, he would be dead before the ship made it to even the turn around point. There was no point in having this conversation. The quickest and easiest way out was this. 

He would get over it eventually, the betrayal of this person who did nothing but murder for the sake of his own revenge. Soon, Akechi Goro would be nothing but a distant memory for him. Maybe it would hurt less over time once he was gone from this world.

"Stop  _ lying _ to me."

He blinked and looked up at him, the pressure of Akira’s fingers felt like a noose around his neck.

"I'm telling the tru-"

"Bullshit. I refuse to believe that you were in a relationship with me for months and it meant nothing to you. You're not  _ that _ good an actor." The snarl that came out of him left him with chills down his spine. Why was he trying so hard?

"Maybe I am just that good." He countered, his voice cheery and a bit strained from the sensation of Akira's fingers still on his throat.

"We shared way too much for you not to have been invested in me—”

“I had to share intimate details to make my trust an easier sell, Kurusu. You are  _ trash _ . If I had been given the orders to kill you, I wouldn’t have hesitated.” He managed a strained laugh that almost broke his own heart.  

It was a wicked game he was playing as his vision was fading. His head felt numb and hot at the same time, like needles being stabbed into his neck and eyes. He clawed at Akira’s hand just as the pressure lessened around his throat.

“You think you’re such a good at this game. You are but I don’t buy it.”

He was dumbstruck for a second and Akira’s fingers retracted from his neck. He breathed deeply, filling his lungs with much needed oxygen and gingerly rubbed where he could feel bruises forming. He snapped his attention up to Akira, blood pulsing loudly in his ears, adrenaline rushing. 

“You’re just trying to get me away from here so you can go through with your stupid plan. Your boss, Shido, wanted me dead, right? And you disobeyed orders. That's why you have this ship rigged to blow, right?"

A chill ran down his spine.

"I told you I'm  _ not stupid _ . I've been on this boat since early this afternoon. Where do you think I hid? The boiler room has a lot of areas to lay low. I saw the whole thing, Goro. Your whole set up. You plan on blowing up this ship and killing everyone in it? So lying to me now will make me just leave you alone to do it? Trying to save my life by hurting me? Just _ stop _ ."

The silence between them was deafening. His own breathing distracted him from every rational thought, every lie washed away in his mind by the roar of emotions that capsized him. Akira’s frigid stare melted into a puddle of warmth, the corners of his mouth pulling into an ashamed frown as he massaged the hand that had just been gripping him. And still he continued.

"I care about you. And you obviously care about me, no matter what bullshit you’re trying to sell me right now. You planned out how to murder me. I heard you do it. We bugged your phone. I knew your orders. You spared me because you give a damn, Goro."

"Stop talking." He mumbled, backing up on the bed, cornered like a wounded animal. This was pathetic. "It doesn't matter anymore. You’re worthless. You are so  _ worthless…  _ so-” He was scrambling for words, thinly veiled panic making him tremble. “I need you to live. So get off this ship before I  _ make _ you."

"I told you before," Akira sat down on the bed and reached out for his hands. He flinched involuntarily as those hands grasped his own tightly. "Not without you. Help us. Help us catch all these people. Plaster their names and crimes everywhere so the world can see. Help us reform society, Goro."

The words he was speaking were blurring together in his ears, forming some music he had never heard before. Trust? Care? Need?

He recognized it all, but never believed that those aspects of life were meant for him. Not anymore, not after his mother—

"I don't think we can do it without you, Goro... so come with me?" The soft red leather returned to his face, except this time to stroke his cheek with affection. He wanted to cave into the touch. He reached up, his resolve crumbling brick by brick. 

"Goro?"

"I…” Honesty? Was honesty the right call here? Another lie surfaced to his tongue, however… something told him there was nowhere else to run. After all of this, Akira was here trying for his sake and no one else’s. 

How disgusting would he be if he spat on that offer?

“I do... care about you too." He wanted to vomit admitting it aloud, under no pretenses of deceit or lies to keep his facade in place.

"I know," Akira whispered and smiled at him gently, his voice reassuring and free of pity. "I have proof of it." He pointed to his forehead. "Not to say I'm not upset about you trying to bash my head in. I'm furious but... I know. You don’t have to do this anymore. You don’t have to lie to me anymore. We can take these bastards down together.”

Suddenly, he was no longer on this hell ship, destined to be damned with the rest of the scum that celebrated here. He was back in Leblanc, drinking in the warmth of Akira's conversations with him about films and books. He was idly tapping the rim of his coffee mug, one with a chip in the handle that always seemed to be served to him every time he showed up. He was at home, nervously checking his phone and his camera, waiting for Akira to text him and tell him he was headed for their favorite spot in the park to talk about Akechi's current cases. He was back in the attic swapping conjectures and secrets and hesitant kisses and feverish desires under the thin ratty blanket and panting pleas of want into the dusty air.

Akira must have taken his silence as doubt because he gripped his hand again, tangling their fingers together.

“I mean it.” He reaffirmed, giving him a reassuring squeeze.

He instantly felt himself calm, those words soothing his tensed muscles as he turned them over and over in his head. He knew it was true…  that he had been trying so hard to deny for so long. He returned the grasp in response, staring him down.

“Show me.” He gently demanded, raising his free hand up to Akira’s scarred face. He tenderly stroked his temple and watched as the Phantom Thief leaned into the touch before he nodded. He felt vulnerable now as he was pushed on his back. Akira hovered over him, unbuttoning his dark grey striped vest with a deft hand. Warm lips alternating between equally warm kisses and uttering apologies at his neck. Apologies were things he'd never really heard before and it made the hairs on his arms standing on end.

"It's fine. I've done worse to you." He assured him, reaching between them to unbutton his own shirt then start on Akira's.

"Still, I lost my temper."

"Again, I've done worse to you." He reached up to push the hair out of Akira's face, seeing the angry red marks glaring down at him.

"Better than a bullet to the head." The other man laughed and caught his wrist to pull his hand away. "It'll heal."

Everything would... maybe.

Then he was swept away by the waves of Akira's mouth covering his again, their tongues tangling in pulsating want. Quickly the rest of their clothes were tossed aside, the thought of the detonator far from his desire drenched mind.

"Akira-" He breathed out softly as he arched into the slick, heated kisses Akira pressed down his chest. He shuddered as need ached in his stomach when teeth ghosted over his nipple. Goosebumps broke over his skin and made his toes curl.

It was annoying how Akira knew where he was sensitive. But then again, so did he. His fingers trailed over the Phantom Thief's shoulders and Akira backed off slightly, allowing him to sit up. He pulled him close, wrapping his arms around his back and eagerly bit under Akira's jaw. The sound that he made was utter torture. The soft whine that broke in the back of his throat ignited Akechi's arousal which was already beginning to smear on his stomach.

"Ah- you're aggressive." Akira muttered as he moved closer to him, Akechi continuing to mar his neck with eager, assertive nips. He just hummed a reply, not bothering to try to formulate words to affirm his observation.

A chill shot down his spine as the tip of Akira's cock touched his own.

Good. He still knew how to make the thief putty under his ministrations. His fingers glided down his stomach, trailing through the light layer of sweat down to his erection. He was already planning ahead, the panting above him telling him it was time to stop teasing. In a haze, he reached beside them to fish through the contents of the side table. To his dismay, he only had lotion. That wouldn't do.

"On your back."

Akira only nodded, shifting with obedience. Akechi climbed over him and placed two fingers onto the thief's lips. Another wordless exchange saw that they slid into his mouth. This was already becoming torturous as Akira lapped at his fingertips, coating them and teasing with his teeth.

He stared at the display, Akira's tongue running in between his fingers too sensitive flesh that was normally covered by gloves. The heat that settled into the room was stifling with arousal, a blush creeping up his neck and into his cheeks. This was unbearable.

He pulled his fingers out of Akira's mouth and took hold of his own cock with the slicked fingers as he bit and licked and kissed, earning mewls of approval that made the sensation of his hand on his own erection all the more satisfying.

"Stop playing around." Akira requested as Akechi smirked into a bruising kiss planted on the thief's hip.

"Fine."

It wasn't like they never did this before. This was not a new experience for either of them. But it felt different this time. It felt... real. That there were no tricky connotations to their intimacy. There were no conditions. Just desire for each other that manifested with whispers of honest want.

He looked up to see Akira's eyes on him, pupils wide and visible under his thick lashes as he lowered his mouth around the tip of Akira's dick. The reaction was instant, fingers in his hair, easily gripping the ponytail he had put it back in earlier in the evening.

"F-fuck." Akira whispered and it took everything in him not to revel in the satisfaction of making him lose his composure like that. HIs own hand slowly slid down his length as his mouth did to Akira. His free hand wrapped around the base of the thief's erection and he began to move.

The hand in his hair pushed his head down, but Akechi set the rhythm until his jaw began to ache and the bitter taste in the back of his throat and the tip of his tongue was too much to take.

"Goro I'm-" Perfect timing.

He pulled himself off, letting him go and swallowed hard. "Sit up." He demanded, trying to catch his breath. The desire that manifested in Akira's eyes almost took his breath away. Their legs intertwined and tongues tangled once again as Akechi wrapped his hand around both of their cocks.

This felt amazing, the slick friction between them felt better. Much better when they were together. The whole world sank beneath them and they were the only ones left at that moment when they both moaned broken praises choked with pleasure. In the moment both of them came with only each other's names on each other's lips. The moment their lips met again, Akechi Goro knew how it felt to be desired for simply being himself.

He was envious of others who figured out their place much sooner in life than he did. He was jealous of Kurusu Akira but... he was enthralled by him too. Akira with no extraordinary features or the ability to stand out from a crowd captured the hearts of everyone around him... And that included him as well. 

He watched as sleep consumed Akira. He stole a glance back to him as he pulled on his clothes. Quietly he left the room. He needed air. He needed to think.

As he stood on the deck, overlooking the choppy black waves that crashed against the side of the ship, Goro sighed. He stared out, to the twinkling lights on the horizon of Tokyo and idly flicked the cap of the detonator open and closed with his thumb.

Everyone on this ship deserved to die.

Himself included.

But… not Akira. No, he had already made the decision to not kill him before. He had already made the decision to give him a chance of survival. He cared and that was hard to admit, even after all of this. His revenge, his blood-soaked vengeance that fueled his reason for existing began to wilt in his mind.

He looked down at it and let out a sigh, closing his eyes tightly and pondered. He could easily wake Akira up and trick him into taking a lifeboat. Or get him close enough to knock him out and lower him on it.

He could easily take Akira's offer and go with him on the lifeboat and still blow up the ship.

Or…

He thought about the scar that marked Akira's face, the offer of trying to make things right and help the rest of the Phantom Thieves bring villains to justice. The decisions he had made up to that point countering the decision to give Akira a chance to live.

He thought about how Akira's eyes held nothing but honesty and the envy that threatened to consume him... the longing that he craved was merely a decision away.

Perhaps the future wasn't as dark as the depths of the sea beneath him. Perhaps Akira was a dawn breaking over the horizon for him... for a number of people even. And perhaps, for once, he would accept help. Perhaps, he'd let optimism win. Perhaps, he would take charge of his life rather than his death. Perhaps, it'd be…

A new kind of freedom? He was unsure. All that lay before him was a pit of uncertainty. The only thing he knew for sure was the sound of the waves beneath him and the tell-tale beat of his heart still pulsed in his ears.

With a deep lungful of salty air, he yanked his arm back and flung the detonator through the air, watching it glint in the moonlight and disappear from view as it sunk into the depths of the choppy waves.

His fingers shook, his resolve shattered to melted together into some new shape he couldn’t discern.

"That was hard, huh?" He jumped and whipped around to see Akira standing behind him. 

Caught. He should have known Akira would wake up and follow him. He cleared his throat and pulled his jacket closer to him. "I don't know what you mean."

"Lying again?" The thief’s voice was light and crisp without a trace of malice. He walked up beside him, resting his arms on the railing. "I think you made the right decision."

Goro stared at him out of the corner of his eye before returning his gaze to the sea. "I'm not so sure actually." All his life he had worked for this, carefully weighed every option, every choice with the optimization of revenge against the man who made his life hell.

And yet he threw that away for a man who offered him an alternative, a way to atone.

"I'm sure. With your help we can humiliate them all, you know. Bring them all to justice for what they have done."

He could only hope that would be the outcome.

"Hey." Akira interjected suddenly and wrapped his hand around Goro’s. "Dance with me."

He scoffed. "We saw how well that went earlier."

The Phantom Thief hummed in amusement. "Yeah, but let's try again. A victory dance, if you will."

"We didn't win anything."

"On the contrary, we secured your life."

Yet another dark, uncertain void where that fact was not necessarily true.

"I told you before, I’m not a prize to be won.”

“Right, right. Fine, then we dance to the fact that I survived you and to the hope that I survive Makoto when we get back home.”

He thought of Sae’s face when he turned back up, knowing by the time he contacted her on shore, she would have had all the letters he had sent her. 

“I’m not so sure we will manage to escape with our lives with those two. I imagine they both will be angry at us.”

“Angry is kind of an understatement.” 

They both shared a nervous laugh and Akira shot him a smile. “It’s fine, we are both charming enough to try to smooth over our recklessness. So come on, dance with me.” He squeezed his hand and Goro’s heart skipped a beat.

“We can't. There's no music playing." He bit his lip and tried to pull his hand free. 

"We don't need any. Come on. It’ll be fun."

He could tell Akira was not going to give up on this and reluctantly joined him. His hand settled on Akira's back but they did not move.

"What?"

"Nothing. I'm just pretty happy right now. The guys are going to be so pissed at me but it was worth it." Their eyes met and they stood in position, arms raised together, hand clenching each other and Goro shook his head. He knew what those words were supposed to be.

_ You were worth it. _

"You're an idiot."

"Yeah, I know. But... thank you for choosing us... and yourself."

His heart froze in his chest as Akira leaned into kiss him. He met him halfway. They lingered in each other's presence for minutes that felt like hours but were as fleeting as seconds. A flush stained their cheeks as they parted and Akira shot him a sheepish, breathtaking smile.

"Now! Teach me how to Box Step, Goro-sensei."

Goro pinched the small of his back and they both let out a laugh before the detective who chose a second chance waltzed to the sound of the waves crashing around them with the person who sincerely offered him the deepest bond he had ever felt in his life.

“Okay, follow my lead. One- two- three-”

And so they moved under the fading light of the moon, basking in each other’s presence… in each other’s rebellion.

And it felt…

_ Liberating. _

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Again please check out these artists who did an amazing job illustrating for this really cool project!
> 
> My twitter is: @chromiekins


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